


Mea Culpa

by Gentleman_Death (MrSpears)



Category: Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Fear, Intimidation, Love, M/M, lestat is a bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-01
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-22 08:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11964093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSpears/pseuds/Gentleman_Death
Summary: Vampire Lestat, here. But you knew that already, did you not? My words are instantly recognizable to you, dear reader, as much as a lover’s velvet whisper in the soft, warm night. There is none other who spins prose such as I, who crafts such delicate reflections and recollections for you to hold close, to cradle and treasure as the world’s most valuable pearl. My words to you, my most beloved reader, as usually far more affectionate intimations than these. You know how I want you to adore me as much as you no doubt despise the wickedness of my nature.





	Mea Culpa

I used to believe, firmly, that Louis would complain to anything with a pulse. Recently he seems to have dropped that very reasonable qualifier, as his audience has moved from the apathetic reader to the downright bored undead. It is infuriating, to know how he goes on thinking I will have no knowledge of it – one would be given to think that his dull biography would have contained enough of his whining to mollify him for centuries to come. Pity, that such a beautiful face conceals such a nature that is best likened to a sopping tissue left on the floor of a funerary home. 

Vampire Lestat, here. But you knew that already, did you not? My words are instantly recognizable to you, dear reader, as much as a lover’s velvet whisper in the soft, warm night. There is none other who spins prose such as I, who crafts such delicate reflections and recollections for you to hold close, to cradle and treasure as the world’s most valuable pearl. My words to you, my most beloved reader, as usually far more affectionate intimations than these. You know how I want you to adore me as much as you no doubt despise the wickedness of my nature. A dichotomy I well delight in, a dragon gloating over his gold; if gold was spun from the most baneful of human gut-reactions, fear and greed and envy, a happy dragon I would make. 

Of course, you might have already guessed that my intentions are not to dwell here for very long. I have but a brief note to drop upon your desk, a hurried rebuke to slide between my teeth before I am off again. I know you shall miss me when I depart, but you will have these words to comfort you until my return – as harsh and sharp-edged as they might be, they are still the product of my ancient tongue, of my long, beautiful fingers. I can turn a flash of anger into a sonnet, just watch me. 

You remember my David? Of course, you do. I will warrant you remember him almost as well as Louis. For different reasons, I am sure, David has a good deal more intellect and I have always found him to be both indispensable and delicious. Louis, on the other hand, has moods that wax and wane like the moon – with his delicate and pale emotions that glisten like champagne in a glass but fall flat on the tongue. Never hot like fresh blood, never cold like silver or the moon he so gracefully mimics. His temper, when it does ignite, is far too similar to a physical blaze to be to my liking. Of course, I am in danger of digression. Do forgive me, as I am in a fury. 

To have them talk to each other! It would be comical if it was not so infuriating. To have them sit like women in a parlor, gossiping about me underneath their breath, Louis with his fluttering hands and his damn alluring eyes. How beautiful they are and seductive, and how David was certain to fall prey, to be pulled under – bespelled! My David! My Louis! To think that Louis pulled him in, with such quivering lips that parrot humanity so well. David, who is forever harboring that black resentment for his lost humanity, was an easy target. And really, Louis was a ruthless predator in drawing him close, in baring his fangs and slicing through David’s skin… 

They shared blood – and I am livid to think – how they shared it with each other without my leave, without even hesitating to consider my reaction to such gall. They do not fear me as they should, they seem to have forgotten everything I have given them both – Louis, in his ingratitude, in his base, boring misery has forgotten all that I have done for him! 

They must consider themselves lovers, now, or as close as creatures like us can bind ourselves to one another. They have spent every long evening since the betrayal together – and I have only just now stumbled upon this myself, finding blood on the sheets – the sheets! – where Louis cannot even find the decency to clean up after his own slavering mouth. They think they are so far beyond their fear of me that they believe they can flaunt their praetorian behavior without consequence. 

I confronted Louis on the matter – of course, how could I avoid it? The evidence was there, and as damning as the brief shadow of emotion I saw cross his face when I presented the sheets to him – knotted in my hands, stained with that wretched blood. A few speckles, to be sure, hardly soaked from a slaughter. It could have been a virgin’s deflowering and I would not have known the difference. 

Louis kept his face passive – he is so disgustingly good at doing so. His eyes, as deep and enchanting as they are, were hard – like glass – and held nothing but facets of green. He was defensive, certainly, I could see it in his posture – the way he kept his knee slightly bent so that he could move out of the way. As always, I was just a little too quick. He did not even ask me what was wrong. 

“Do you think you are clever, Louis?” I demanded hotly. “Because I assure you that such a label must be earned, and not self-endowed.” 

I saw a lick of flame, that temper flaring. Again it was quelled. He refused to lose himself to me. His voice was even, melodic. He has a voice like a funeral dirge. “Do you think you are clever, Lestat?” He reflected my own words back at me. We were not going down this path. 

I stepped closer to him, and the back of his heel hit the wall. I did not even feel the collision as my hand hit the wall as well, close enough to brush against his cheek as it sped by. I felt the weak plaster give a little, possibly even crack. If he would stop being so difficult, maybe we could have nice things. 

He jumped, so small a movement that it would not have been noticeable to the mortal eye. I saw fear, just a glimmer of it, make his eyes shine. Louis had not shown me fear since…

Well, it had been some time. It felt good to see it, to wrest back the reins. 

“Louis,” I lowered my voice down to a croon, a gentle purr to roll across the skin. I needed his willingness, his acquiescence. “Is it so difficult to be honest with me?” 

“Yes,” his words smacked. “You are angry about David? You could have just said so.” 

His accent. Such a charming little thing he has managed to hold onto, not even a bit of it eroded away by the centuries. Of course, he never could quite learn to talk around the fangs. 

“You shared blood with him,” I could not stop my voice from lowering. It was a growl, now, like a wolf baring its teeth. I could feel my fingers curling, nails digging up the plaster. This anger, alive, its own beast – hardly felt like it was of my own accord. But I was happy to succumb to it – feed it, let it thrive, let it terrify my Louis to see so unhinged a devil so close to his vulnerable white throat. “I should kill you both for such disgusting insolence. I should tear out his heart in front of you and burn it until it smolders.” 

I saw the defiance for a moment before it melded again into fear. Not terror, but something that tasted similar – a nice taste on the back of my tongue, I wanted to lick it away from his skin and suck it from his mouth, his throat, such delicious, crawling, decadent…

“Lestat,” he held up one hand, I did love it when Louis tried to placate me. He didn’t quite put it on my chest, but he was trying to put distance between us. It didn’t work. I was so close to him now that I could have pulled him into an embrace, pressed my lips against his. What a fuss he would have made over that. “Lestat, please…” 

I loved his please. I loved the way it stumbled from his lips as if he did everything he could to swallow it before it fell out. I pulled my hand away from the wall, wrapping it around his tender throat and pressing my nail up into the soft part of his jaw. The pressure of my thumb against his windpipe would have met something in his human days, but now it served mostly as a reminder, a display.

“You are mine, Louis.” I knew that was going to stir up his temper. He was fighting it so hard. Oh, Louis. Just let it go. Lash out, succumb to me. It will feel so good. 

“I do not see why you have to make threats,” he said through his teeth, “that you do not intend to carry out.” 

“You think I won’t?” I released my hold on his throat. “If the world was being reduced to ashes around us and I could only salvage one of you from the flame, it might be you, but it wouldn’t be him. I do adore my David, but I would not die for him.”

“You would die for me?” Louis let out a harsh laugh, circling his fingers around his own throat to caress the impression left behind by my unruly hand. “As if you could die.” His words trailed off into a hoarse whisper. “As if any of us could…” 

I rolled my eyes so far back that they began to ache. “Not now, spare me the sobs of your immortal regret.” 

“None should hear it but you – if you care so much! David, at least, do not give me such looks as you do. He does not talk to me as if I am some sort of dog to be beckoned to his heels…” 

“If you treated yourself with more dignity, Louis, you might receive it in kind.” 

“The tattered shreds of my dignity are all I can cling to, as rent to pieces as it has been by you…” 

“So, so!” I pressed my hand against my chest, scoffing. “I am to blame. Your sniveling, your groveling – those are all pieces of your desperate personality that have nothing to do with me. You should be grateful that I love you – no one else, not even David would be able to put up with all that I do for long. After all of these years, after you tried so hard to be rid of me and then I came back…!” 

“Spare me that you came back. Every day I try to forget that I ever saw your face again after that night – and I lose myself so easily in David, he indulges my escapism, he gives me something to think about other than how I am haunted by you no matter where I go.” 

That stung. I did not want it to, but it did – I would never let Louis see how his words bit – like fleas or something equally as irritating. I snarled, flashing fang. 

“So you will leave me then, the both of you?” 

“Would you let us? Sharing something with him that I will never willingly give to you is the only way to pull at these shackles on my wrists, Lestat.”

We were both quiet, and the night seemed unsettled by the silence. The house groaned to fill the void, although the creaking beams were not a substitute for all that was left unsaid. 

I was going to hurt him. I knew that. I know I will, even now, as I pen this. I know I am going to hurt Louis. But he has forgotten himself. Although I did not have the time then, and I do not have it now – I know it will be soon. 

I leave you with this, dear reader. A secret that I may share with only you, my most tender and beautiful confidant. I love my Louis. And I will not share him. I will do what I must. 

That is all. Bon nuit.


End file.
